Over the Railing
by Depopulating
Summary: .: LeonxSora :. Cloud wakes up in the Leonhart Mansion chained to a bed. While trying to get out of the manor, he has to find a way around three mentally unstable brothers... .: Incest :.
1. Black Christmas

**OVER THE RAILING**

**.x.**

**Chapter One  
Black Christmas**

**.x.**

It was six in the afternoon, an hour before the anticipated announcement would be made (the only reason why any sane person would come to such a gloomy location in the first place), and already over a hundred curious guests had immediately begun to unload from their private ships onto the drab quay of Leonhart Island. Although it was Christmas Eve, no snow had fallen in this tropical climate; no cold shivers anyone's spine. Men and their wives pushed together, arm in arm. A light touch of chaos erupted onto the man-made platform as more and more left their exorbitant boats and squished together like sardines. People fused, shoved, and jostled into one another, until one bright young lad decided to carry on up the steps leading away from the water.

The lacing and ribbons from female's wide-brimmed hats and finest dresses smacked everyone left and right, fluttering in the strong trade wind coming from the sea and hitting against them. Gossip erupted as the crowd followed on up the narrow staircase carved into the large mass of rock that led upward. The males were all in less fancy attire, carrying suits of gray and black with fine ruffled shirts. They all stood with their hands firmly down by their sides, if not one of their arms accompanied by a chatting woman, stern and staring at one other, man to man, sending silent questions to one another: What is this all about?

Xemnas Leonhart was the richest in all of Destiny Islands, the ship owner and many would come to him with pleads for loans. Hell, he _did_ have the money, and lent it out he did. Although the man was known for his party-going attitude (a gathering was not a gathering without his political head), Xemnas was no adolescent; in fact, he was the complete opposite, and he would have to pass the fortune along sometime, and without any known offspring, he would have to chose from one of his associates. Eyes began to twitch in the crowd. What if the winner of his profits were not capable of being in such a business of trade and loans?

This brought on a rapid fit of panic throughout them all. Their society would surely suffer! Taxes would skyrocket as ships would become scarce and so would food and luxuries. Each step they took closer to the stairs only gave them more reason to sweat, and white handkerchiefs popped out like popcorn and were spread all over like party favors to wipe off their worry. _No, _many thought, _I'm just thinking of the worst—nothing like that would ever happen. _There was a great deal of other qualified men. _It's best that I no longer ponder on about it..._

It's a wonder why no one moving on up those steps became frightened when they looked down towards the wharf and the ocean crashing against the rocks, the fear of falling off the rail-deprived staircase filling their minds.

New ones coming off of boats gaped at the view, staring at the march on up the steep rock staircase. From the wharf—the bottom of the mountain-tall rock structure—to the top appeared over seventy feet tall! Just above the trees the spectators could see the flat roof of the Leonhart Mansion and the milk colored, brick lighthouse towering above it, gasping and becoming anxious to hurry up and get up there.

It's a peculiar thing in the first place that the mansion be located on the most isolated and tallest island in Destiny Islands, but a wall of forest was also planted in order to separate the estate from the rest of the world, especially the other islands, which were just on the horizon between the vibrant sky and the sea.

And as the front of the trudge up the stairs traveled upward and onward, the sky grew darker, and storm clouds swarmed in. Once the group completed the never-ending staircase, the forest hit them like a brick wall. Complaints filled the musky air with the sounds of boots and heels breaking twigs. At least, whines from the women on how the kicked up dirt would surely ruin their fine clothing, but through the forest they went, through the tangled branches up above their heads, blocking all sunlight. The multicolored party gowns looked like butterflies flying through out the darkness, unlike the men, who blended in with their blacks and grays into the scenery around them. Their eyes searched through the vague mist swirling around the trunks of trees, which may or may have not been just their imagination getting the best of them.

This was hardly the entrance they were thinking of to the great Leonhart Mansion, but as soon as they topped the rise shortly after the end of the forest line, there it was—the gorgeous white house reared its perfect size before their commoner eyes (compared to the grand house), decorated with elaborate tall columns, a leveled roof, and extremely wide verandas, covered in Yule grass garland wrapped in between the rails. The mansion was massive. Considering that there was no use for a driveway since there were no roads on this tall, but small island, there wasn't one; the bottom of the front steps of the sunny, promising front veranda immediately touched the thriving green grass, laid out before them. The impending lighthouse glared down at them like a malignant murderer.

The people were silent, but as more were catching up from the stroll up the stairs in the back pushed them forward, the glass doors briskly swept open, slightly squeaking, revealing a pitch-black darkness from inside. They squinted in the sunlight, craning to see. Creeping out of the darkness moments later came a public petite maid from the shadows inside the house. She moved forward with a taut posture, her sickly pallid hands strictly by her sides. The guests silenced themselves, "Shh!" and waited for her to speak.

She combed back a misplaced strand of her golden hair with her finger. The older teenage girls whispered to each other, clasping their hands together, "Look at her hair! She has antennae!"

The crowd slowly pushed forward, holding out their hands at the first drops of rain. The maid glared in the direction of the girls, waiting for them to quit their giggles before speaking. Larxene cleared her throat, placing her hands neatly behind her back.

"Welcome, honored guests," she said, her voice raspy and emotionless, but clear. She stepped aside, holding out her arm towards the inside. "If you'd please come inside."

Exchanging glances, the front row hesitated, but the maid's piercing blue eyes made them come forward, silently sauntering steadily up the steps, as if they were intruders and were trying to sneak in. Through the open French windows one could see the entrance, a ballroom in itself. The town folk gasped when they entered, the inside more beautiful than the outside. The main hall was bigger than any room most of them had ever seen before—an extremely high, flat ceiling that held four floors, and as wide as five or six of most of their houses put together.

As soon as you stepped in, on the opposite side was one straight, broad staircase, which stopped in the middle of the second floor level wall, and split, connected ends left and right up to the fourth floor. Hanging on the patterned wall was a portrait, also abnormally large in size, of the family—four unkind bodies painted together. One was very familiar to them all; Xemnas, but the rest were unknown, two brunettes and one blonde. To the left of the stairs, a medium-sized pine tree was placed, adorned in silver and blue ornaments.

A team of servants scurried around the snowy white marble floors, going in and out of rooms with silver food trays to be placed on the tables on either sides of the room, and some rushing up and down the staircase. The smell of freshly barbequed food, chicken and perhaps steak, dug its way into their stomachs, and the need to eat grew. Conversations began to arise as they calmly settled in, knowing that the room was fitting for them all, not to mention the other four floors of house space on each side of said room. The decorations did everything but traduce Leonhart's reputation for dignity, the house a mighty high power of beauty.

The center of the hall hung a colossal auburn lamp, hanging from the ceiling by golden chains, similar to the drapes of the front French Windows and the banisters in which maroon-looping festoons dangled under the fourth floor hallway railing. The musicians in their alcove to the right of the stairs, already perspiring, sawed on their instruments, playing the soft melody of a melancholy waltz, the haunting music drawing the crowd in more through the door.

Reluctant girls in their butterfly bright dresses spread across the room, and the hall burst into life, the steady twirls of hooped, radiant dresses under the reflection of the lamp while the music transitioned into a lighter, yet keen succession of notes. Hands tied together, arms around waists, moving along to the beat of the music. The hall had seemed such a large place a few minutes before, and now it was packed, heated with the odor of cologne, cinnamon, and burning incense candles.

Others spent their time around the bar, sipping fine wine from their crystal glasses while giggling over nonsense or fretting over stocks and how they would introduce themselves when the time came. Over the commotion and conversations of the social crowd, most suspicious of the arrival of the host, it was hard to hear anything. A couple of young girls found themselves drawing closer to the staircase, moving closer towards the family portrait. "Who are they, Kairi?" the blonde asked the other, a puzzled look upon her milky face. The other reddish-brown brunette shrugged, resting a polished finger upon her chin.

"Let us go see, Naminé!" They accompanied each other on the staircase, abandoning the rest of the party on the floor and past the musicians. At the second floor, they paused at the portrait, a many times bigger than them. The blonde wiped her finger on the painting, following the outline of one of the male's pant leg. Blue eyes from the youngest boy shone back into hers from the picture, their expressions blank and stern in the picture.

"I wonder who they are?" Kairi whispered, her fingers lightly drumming against the portrait. Naminé shrugged. She girl grinned, withdrawing her hand from the art, only to be taken into the dry hands of another. The girl gasped, pulling back her hand, but the man's firm one kept it close.

"All in good time, milady," told the silver manned gentleman to her, pecking her skin with his lips. She grimaced, but held it in the best she could. Kairi nodded and the blonde pulled on her other arm, removing her friend's hand from the man's grasp and back down the staircase desperately. He looked pleased beneath his tired, furrowed features, shaking his head brightfully at their youth as he held on to the handrail, overlooking the function in his ballroom.

Some drinkers and dancers had already noticed his presence, having seen him from previous socials surrounded by political figures and other rich men. They looked up towards him, which started a domino effect, one person stopping what they were doing to look at him after another. Kairi and Naminé hid behind one of the round, thick columns that stood from near the front of the hall to the top of the ceiling, poking their scarred heads out from the back of it.

As soon as he noticed that much of the crowd was staring up at him, he followed the wooden banister with his hand and stepped down the staircase, until he was on the very last step in the middle. Xemnas raised his hand, quieting the already silent crowd before him.

"Welcome, welcome, _welcome_, my guests," he said, placing said hand behind his black, tailored ensemble. "I'm so glad you all have made it, on this unfortunately rainy holiday. I hope you enjoy your first time in my home, since you all_ are _the first ones here. I just hope it isn't too dirty."

The crowd forced a polite chuckle, glass cups clinking. He smiled, taking a wine goblet from a maid, and sipped it. He sighed from the taste, licking his lips, and raised his glass. "To our health and safety on this beautful Christmas!" Xemnas said, his voice clangoring throughout the stateroom. The crowd followed suit, holding up their refreshments in a toast.

"To health!"

They drank in unison, the younger children guzzed down cider.

"Now back to dancing!" Xemnas shouted, handing off his drink to the same servant. She scurried off into the kitchen next to the musicians, who had stopped momentarily for the toast, but resumed playing as soon as Xemnas gave the cue to continue. The people recommenced their discussions and partnered minuet, the level of sound going up once again.

Around the middle of the night, about seven-thirty, when the relaxed, leisurely waltzes were taking place, Xemnas made his way up the staircase again, standing in front of the portrait. Unlike before, he had to tap his spoon against his cup to get the attention he wanted. Couples separated arms, stopping their movements quickly until all was silent once again in the hall. He beamed, giving the glass to Larxene, who was standing right beside him.

"It's that time of the night, my guests, where I make that announcement I've been dying to tell you."

The males began to sweat, glancing at each other once again, while the women gazed up at him with anticipation. Xemnas flashed an evil smile as someone stepped down from the fourth floor on to the carpeted staircase from the left, the crowd's eyes following him down. Involuntary gasps and giggles from girls sounded throughout the room as they watched this attractive young man lithely carry on down the steps. He had a head of combed brown hair dangling down roughly to his shoulders, muscular, virile arms defined in the fitting silk ruffled shirt he had on. His hands stayed firmly by his black trousers while his pair of fine gray eyes scanned the floored people, a slight grin pushing through on his lips. He was around twenty years of age, and his manner bespoke that air of self-confidence--one of a narcissistic nature, although he can't be blamed for that particular attitude.

And following behind him, the one young Kairi remembered from the painting, another male, much shorter than the first, with hair as golden as the sun and feathered so that it stuck straight up. He seemed ungainly--clumsy--his physique extremely slim and bony. He was scrawny, nothing compared to the first, dressed in trimmed clothing copied from the brunette, who stopped next to Xemnas and Larxene. His deep blue eyes stared at his feet and the floor as he walked, holding onto the handrail for support. He seemed shy and reserved, soft and immature in nature with a button nose and thin, pink lips, although he was about fifteen or sixteen in age. He sent a fleeting impression towards the throng of people, felt himself become alarmed inside, and glanced back down at the rug as another came down from the fourth floor.

Last to come down the stairs, this one was also as young as the timid sandy-haired fellow, just as gaunt and submissive under his fitting ebony clothing, but he had spiked chestnut hair under the same wide sapphire orbs. He seemed troubled and provoked, one of his hands a tight fist. He stared contemptuously at his targets: the blonde in front of him, the brunette, and Xemnas, blind to the rest of the curious eyes around him. He came to a rest beside the other four at the bottom of the stairs, not tearing his eyes away from them.

"These, my friends..." Xemnas said, "...are my sons."

Larxene stared at the floor.

Complete, utter stillness. The men's' jaws dropped, the women's' eyebrows raised, and the young girls giggled at the sudden, ridiculous thought of marriage and courtship, waving themselves with their fans to take the ring of money out from their ears.

"Leon."

He cocked his head to the side, hiding his scornful look behind his hair.

"Roxas."

He refused to look up.

"...and Sora."

He looked dazed. His royal blue eyes glimmered, on the brink of tears.

_BOOM! The sound of a gunshot pierced the air, and confusion and chaos erupted in the hall; women screamed, the crowd pushing out of the doors. Glasses broke as they slammed onto the floor. The hall was slowly being deserted. _

_And on the staircase, Xemnas in a pool of his blood--a small hole in his heart. The shot had come from the hallway opposite the staircase on the fourth floor above the doors. All Cloud could see was a hand slip away from the banister, the gun grasped in it. He froze. _

**.x.**

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yeah, here's chapter one, my first actual chapter story since like..the Stepford Husands? I'll work on all those other stories later, but this I had to get out after reading Gone With the Wind, watching The Count of Monte Cristo and A Tale of Two Sisters, and playing Haunting Ground. Heh. 

**Special Thanks: **Riku-stalker, my completey awesome beta for this one. Much love to you, Natalie-chan!

**Dedicated To: **Ame-chan. Here's my anniversary present to you, bestest buddy! Wuv woo!


	2. The Guest Bedroom

**.x.**

**Chapter Two  
**

**.x.**

Cloud carelessly flipped through the pages of Demyx's hand-written notes and new paper clippings, while his friend bit down on his nails right beside him. The blonde smirked, a stubborn skeptic, while Demyx was shaking from fear. Cloud stopped looking down at the papers and glared at his comrade, cocking a brow.

"What's _your _problem?"

Demyx stared back, taking his fingers away from his mouth. He remained silent.

Cloud sighed, slamming the book notebook shut, placing it on the floor next to him. "Listen, Demyx, I don't know why you're going all psycho on me--"

"It's dangerous there!" Demyx interrupted.

"--but you _need to shut up. _This is exactly why I'm going in there and you're not. We need this story, or we'll get fired from the newspaper." Cloud smugly broke into a smile as a caught Demyx tried to figure out what to say to that, turning his head away to look out from the boat. They were on a modest speed boat, sitting under a large tarp awning above them, headed towards the large, steep rock pile in the distance as Destiny Islands' main island became smaller and smaller behind their backs. Cloud yawned, stretching his arms above his head, and wrapped one around Demyx's shoulder. He flinched at the contact, shrugging Cloud's arm away.

"I don't feel right about this, Cloud," Demyx told him, calmness behind his voice. "That place is cursed--haunted! Don't you remember what happened to the last two that went up there?"

Cloud rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, that they never came back, and their idiotic search-and-rescue weren't ever heard from, either, _I know_."

"Which is why no one goes up there, and which is why you're not, either."

"They probably fell off the cliff like the morons they are," Cloud scoffed, shaking his head. "Heaven knows that Leonhart Island is hundreds of years old, not to mention it's not as sturdy as the rest of the islands are..."

"Cloud, are you sure you want to do this?" Demyx tried asking, hope for a 'no' ringing in his voice. The other quickly nodded, and he slumped down in his chair, sighing.

"I want to, if for nothing else, get a recording of the rubble," Cloud said, holding up his video camera, "and prove that L. Island is not, in any way, haun--"

His voice abbruptly ended, as he and Demyx were thrust forward in their seats, holding on to the hand rests beside them as the motor boat came to a rough crash on the landing pier of the island. Friction then slammed them backwards in the seat, both hitting their backs forcefully. Demyx hissed after the impact, leaning forward to pat his aching back. Cloud ran his fingers from his nose to the back of his head and Demyx rubbed his neck, straining to see the possible damage that the 'graceful' arrival had supplied the boat. He growled and came up on his feet, wobbling off of the side of the silver speed boat and stepped on the gray rock of the round quay. He squinted in the sun light, shielding his eyes with his hand like a visor and bended over to get a closer look at the damage.

"How does it look?" Cloud groaned, following Demyx off of their diminutive mode of travel, stopping next to his friend to also observe the blow the metal had taken.

"Not too bad," Demyx said, running his fingers along the gash in the side. He shrugged, withdrawing his hand. "If nothing else, it's just unpleasant to look at."

Cloud took the good news as a signal to start throwing his things out, taking Demyx's equipment and their tools in large black cases and placed them on the dock beside the other blonde, who, having taken a couple of minutes to stop staring at Cloud, climbed up the other side of the boat to assist him in setting the electronics up. They placed a small travel table in front of the boat and hooked up Demyx's laptop using the generator they had brought with them for power. Demyx took out a foldable brown chair and sat down to start the computer.

"Remind me again?" Cloud inquired, replacing the camera with a new recording tape. Demyx began to type, opening a site on the laptop.

"Early 1800's, Destiny Island's ship owner held a gathering at his estate, L. Mansion. He, Xemnas Leonhart, had been known for decades as a strong people-person, but he was never married and never had children...that people _knew_ of. He was shot that very same night, when he came out that he had three sons: Leon Leonhart, age twenty one--"

"Molestably handsome, eh?" Cloud's eyes sparkled with lust as he looked on over Demyx's shoulder, staring that the brunette's picture on the screen.

The other shook his head. "You horny bastard."

Cloud narrowed his eyes, stood up straight, and waved his hand for Demyx to continue. Demyx smirked, reading on.

"--Sora Leonhart, age sixteen, and Roxas Leonhart, age fifteen."

"Do you know why he never told anybody about his kids?"

"No... no one really knows. Nothing seemed wrong with them, according to news recorded from that time. The death, however unfortunate, also inexplicable and unsolved."

"Any suspects at all?"

"Yes," Demyx replied, scrolling down on the web page. "Many did question his sons, since the shot was taken from the fourth floor opposite the staircase. None of the guests that night had reason or availabilty to that particular floor."

"Could it have been someone who had been there before, perhaps?" Cloud padded his pant's pocket to make sure that his cell phone was in there. "Demyx? You got your phone?"

Demyx grinned and placed the Razor on the table next to the laptop. "No one had been to his mansion before; it could have been one of the maids or something, but no one had a possible motive to kill such a wealthy man."

"Ummmm... for _money,_ maybe?" Cloud said, placing the camera's travel case over his shoulder. He began walking towards the steps going up.

"True, but it's what happened _after_ the incident that's interesting."

"Hmm?" Cloud haulted, looking over his shoulder. Demyx smiled from behind his laptop.

"About a week after their father's death, the mansion was completely burned down, save a bit of rubble, and one of the sons were found dead. That body was found outside in the woods, while the other two were missing, most likely ashes in the fire."

Cloud's eye twitched. "The cute one?!"

Demyx took a deep breath, his head dangling from his shoulders. "No, he wasn't burnt to a crisp. But he did suffer... _lovely_ injuries."

Twitch.

"...damn it."

Demyx began to type. "Yes, yes, shouldn't you be going?"

"So now you're pushing me into an ill-mannered send-off? Wasn't it you just a moment ago who was crying for me to stay?"

Demyx crossed his arms, pushing his lips into a slight pout. "I _wasn't _crying. But do be careful, Cloud. And take this with you." He held up four pieces of paper. Cloud made sure to snatch them and examined them. They were prints of the mansion's floors.

"That place was a maze. See if you can match those areas with whatever you see there."

Cloud fixed his hand into the peace sign, turning round to continue his travel towards the steps.

**.x.**

Cloud skipped up the steps happily, humming to himself an amusing melody. He hadn't been afraid of the fairly large scaffold of the highly elevated island back down on the wharf, but as he danced up each level, his stomach grew queasy. The staircase was awfully narrow, enough room for one person wide, and there was no hand rail, so one misplaced step could easily take you over the edge.

_"I'm skipping up the scary mountain_

_Up the stairs, up the stairs_

_I'm skipping up the scary mountain..."_

Cloud's eyes wandered away from the orange rock to the right, catching a glimpse of down below. The height alarmed him, and he squealed (inside, of course), running his hand along the rock wall that accompanied him on the left on his way up for support.

_"And I can't look down!" _

His cell phone began to ring, and the vibration in his front pocket made him jump. He pulled it out, seeing "Demyx Cell" appear on the screen, and flipped it open to answer. "Yo."

"You okay?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" he barked.

"I dunno."

"Then why ask?"

"I dunno..."

"...Goodbye, Demyx." Cloud closed the flip-phone shut, slightly irritable. He was tempted to look down to see if Demyx was looking back up at him, but the fear of falling down was still strongly present, and he thought against it. He sped up, making sure not to dawdle while going up these some hundred steps. Taking his time proved nothing, and the prosperity of finally reaching the top was appealing to Cloud, so he started two at a time. He noticed storm clouds brewing over head and the distant rumbling of thunder, and he became worried over the electrical equipment.

He placed his hand in his pocket, ready to take out his phone once again, but from where he was on the staircase, he was able to see that his friend was already setting up an awning with plastic sides that draped down to cover the area of the computer table. _Clever one, _Cloud thought to himself, withdrawing his hand. Another rumble of thunder, louder this time. He sighed. The heavy sea breeze was coming in. He noticed a black, rusty Victorian rail up ahead. It was sticking out of the ground, where the end of the staircase was and the turn on to the actual island began. Relief rushed throughout him once he got off of the steps and onto solid earth, just about ready to get on his hands and knees to kiss the ground, if not or the fact that the dirt was unsanitary and slightly muddy orange clay.

There were only a couple of trees, both on either side of the island. A small incline of the land--a mixture of meager patches of grass and thin dirt--lay up ahead a few meters from where he stood, and beyond it, the tips of ebony-stained white cement. Cloud unzipped his case and took the camcorder out, slipping the leather strip attatched to the camera over his right hand and opened the screen so that it was sticking out on the left. The turned the dial until it turned on, and the scenery in which was before him appeared on the screen. The blonde pressed _Record_, and the video camera began to hum as it started up.

Cloud grinned, taking the folded area prints that Demyx had given him out from his back pants pocket. He walked forward, inspecting the outline. It indeed _was _a maze, with hundreds of rooms that connected to others with various hallways, staircases, and passages that led to questionable and unknown places. On the left of the house was a wide area that showed for all four floors, labeled _Garden_. Cloud raised his golden brow. "A ...garden...? In the middle of a house...?"

He shrugged, feeling the sudden ascend in level. He looked over from behind the collection of papers, topping the rise. The span of the ruins was surprising--the edge of the right side of the house was still intact, a wall standing about a story high. Just poking out from behind the wall he could see the corner of the frame of a modern garage-type area, although open on both sides. The rest of the manor, however, was gone, except for a minimal amount of wall fractions that only reached about a foot in height.

Vibration hit the front of his thigh and the text message ringtone began to play. Cloud let out a soft groan and seized the phone from the pouch in which it had been resting inside, flipping the top open to read the message. It was, of course, from Demyx. It read:

_Find anything yet?_

Cloud pressed _Reply_ and answered: _I. Just. Got. Here. Lemme alone for now. _He placed the phone back, and not a moment later, he heard a faraway sob, followed by a roar of thunder. He became as hard as stone, his eyes widened to their fullest. He dared to turn his head in the direction of the off and on cries: from the back of the crumbling right wall. Questions raced themselves around his mind. Should he check? Should he go over there? Should he just leave?

Of course, Cloud did what Cloud always did--go check it out. I mean, he couldn't walk around without complete awkwardness before seeing who was crying, right? That would be rude. Or so, that's what Cloud told himself. With utmost care his feet guided him towards the right corner of the house, the structure slowly being revealed to him from behind the wall as he came closer. The sound became clearer and more frequent, snivels and wails from someone choked up with tears. He didn't attempt to actually round the corner, going straight inside and possibly running into whoever was weeping, but instead stayed a safe distance from the entrance, looking interestingly at the interior.

In the shaded corner was the silhouette of a person, hunched over with his head in his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs. He was sitting on a round stool, his feet barely fitting off the edge. Cloud couldn't help but stare for a moment, listening to the kid's muffled whimpers and snuffles from under his dark, spiked hair. He was about to say something, when after a sniffle or two, the boy stopped crying, and it became silent. Cloud had shifted so that he stood up straight, instead of leaning over and in the position to run, and in doing so, the sound of the pebbles crunching under his feet startled the boy, making him in the same frozen bearing as Cloud was. So there they were, standing within twenty feet of each other, fully aware that another was before them, and they didn't know what to do. The kid didn't even look up.

"Uhh--" the blonde tried to speak again, but the boy murmered something above Cloud's words. He squinted his eyes. "What?"

"_You _did...this," he whispered, almost too low again for Cloud to hear.

"W-what?"

"You _did _this..." The boy raised his head, his inflamed eyes shinning with malevolence. Cloud felt himself cringe inside, taking a cautionary step backwards. The boy rose to his feet, pulling out a gleaming jet black revolver from his pant belt and aiming it directly at Cloud, whose mind was suddenly vacant and blank. All he could see was the gun being pointed at him and surprisingly wasn't as threatened as he should have been. He had just met the kid, so why would he have reason to shoot him now?

"What are you...what are you talking about?" Cloud tried to reason with him, but the gun still held strong, although the brunette's hand began to wobble. The tremor was a relief to Cloud, standing there in front of a gun like an idiot. The boy advanced forward, and so did Cloud the same backwards. He took another ascend forward, and the blonde another desend backward. It became a game, both moving in one direction at the exact same time, not getting any closer to one another. One step, one step, one step, one step, until finally, the blonde chose not to move, but instead stand strong.

"Who are you?" he snapped, his clenched fists hanging by his sides. The other responded with the clicking of the firearm, readying it for fire as he pushed down on the small lever in the back. But Cloud didn't move, the cliche tumble weed rolling on past him and out of frame. Although he had no prior experience with being aimed at by a stranger, he had felt that it was in his right sense to keep his cool. Staying in a collect manner would show the gunman that he meant no harm, and that he wasn't doing anything that could threaten him.

Too bad the kid shot him anyway.

**.x.**

Cloud had an itch. And not just any other itch, but an itch on his neck. And not just any other itch on his neck, but an itch that he couldn't get to. Drowned in fatigue and a mindless zombie at that point, his weary body would attempt to get at the prickling on his neck every few minutes, but everytime the evasion would be blocked by something cold and hard, and his sleeply self would resist the urge to stratch after trying to dig under the barrier. That is, until the itch became unbearable and the contraption around his neck uncomfortable. He awoke in one clean shot, eyes bloodshot and sat upright, in combat with the thick metal necklace that was placed around his throat like a dog with fleas.

He was shirtless under thin cotton sheets of a four poster bed. The room beyond the bed was spacious. A small meal table next to the wardrobe made him break inside, considering it was clear of any food, and his stomach was already growling. The licks of the fire from the fireplace provided him comforting sounds, while the foot steps of someone outside of the door gave him worry. He groaned when he moved his left shoulder, a wrap of marroon cloth around it from where the shot wound was. He couldn't help but poke it, supplied with pain throughout his arm. Heaven knows he won't be doing _that _again.

He kicked his legs out from under the blankets and over the side of the highly elevated bed, noticing that he was also shoeless and clothed in a white undergarmet that went down to his ankles and slightly ruffled at the ends. He slid off the bed, his feet touching the cold wooden floor boards. Besides the closed windows, the only way out of the area was the door in the right corner. He began walking towards it, concerned about who could be outside the door.

The neck clamp pulled his head back, preventing him from going any further. He stared at it curiously, turning around to see why he wasn't able to move.

The metal on wrapped around his neck was connected to a thick chain that was attatched to the head board. He tugged on it, since the bed didn't look so stable to start with, but the silver chain wouldn't budge. He tried again just for the heck of it, pulling it with his whole body weight. It didn't move. Like a slug, he climbed back into the bed just as the door knob began to jiggle in the corner.

Cloud gasped and quickly pulled the covers over his head like the Boogey Man was out to get him, taking shelter under the comforting white haven of the blanket. The door opened with a slight creek, and the sound of foot steps entered the room. Cloud peaked through a hole on the sheet. He noticed something _interesting_ lying just under the table, and the stomach of the guest in the room appeared in sight, placing a glass of a blood red drink on the wood. The blonde moved the blanket just enough so that he wasn't able to peer out again. The foot steps started up once again, heavy shoes marching on the floor, but this time they went away, and the sound was faint from the behind the doorway once again.

Cloud sat up straight once more, getting off of the bed. The chain from the bed to his neck was just long enough for him to reach out his arm to grab the cup and examine it. On the bottom of it, the word 'Leonhart' was carved into the glass.

"Oh...SNAP..."

**.x.**

**Author's Note:** Okay, I don't care if the revolver wasn't made until the LATE 1800's, because this is a fanfiction, and I get to break the rules a little bit. Op! Cloud's all tied up! I sense time-travel!! And I changed my pen name. Whoot! 

Ame, I hope this makes your day better. :)


	3. The Lighthouse

**.x.**

**Chapter Three**

**The Lighthouse, The Library, and The Fencer's Bedroom**

**.x.**

He grunted, holding onto the chain with one hand, straining his neck, and stretching his other arm until his fingers could just barely brush against the key, a thin piece of bronze, which ultimately pushed it even further back. It was a wonder why the key--what he hoped was for his metal neck brace--was doing under the table in the first place, but it just meant a better situation for the helpless blonde, chained to the bed for who knows how long. He had begun to think that he was going to be forced here forever. Oh dear, a sex slave! He was already fitted for one: ripped, _flexible_, and barely clothed. He grabbed at the key desperately. He was no one's sex slave, and he would make sure of it.

Cloud was concerned over the fact that the one that had placed the odd drink in his guest room could come back any time now, all the more reason to make haste and get his hands on the key. Even if the key was not for his uncomfortable, cold metal collar, it had to go to something. The brace's lock didn't seem much of a grand one and it was easy to figure out, Cloud was sure, so even if the copper key wasn't intentionally for it, getting it unlocked with it would be simple.

He hissed as a biting, cutting pain broke through his left shoulder; he had stretched his arm so much that his wound was in an intensely painful state, one where he winced and whimpered each time he moved. He sucked back air through his teeth, stopping his attempt at escape to lightly touch his wrapped injury with his hand, shielding it from the horrors of his surroundings from under his palm.

Cloud gritted his teeth, sighing, and resumed trying to get the small key. He growled, already stretched out to his maximum. The bright blue sky seeped through the thin curtains of maroon behind the table. The fire from the hearth had long gone out, and the room's light was solely from the large, arched window in front of him. From where he was on the floor, he could just see the clouds poking the air with scattered puffs of white. He never understood how people could _see _things in them; the patterns of the white shreds were random and irregular.

The blonde then wondered how Demyx was holding up, for he did not know how long he had been in the room already. His phone was not on him, he was sure, since not a scrap of the clothing he had come with was on his body now. He pushed himself up with his hands, ignoring the stab in his shoulder, and stood up, unable to move forward. Through the swaying curtains Cloud could see the tops of trees, obviously looking over the front of the house, and off into the distance--Destiny Islands, although the faint silhouettes of buildings and the town were smaller than he remembered.

He headed back towards the high bed, climbing on top of the thick mattress with the help of the chain to hoist him up. His neck was sore from the straining, and resting his head upon a pillow helped as he gazed up at the ceiling through the white net of a canopy of the four-poster bed. His chest was stiff from lying on his stomach for so long, curling himself up into a ball under the sheets.

The boom of thunder awoke him half an hour later, or so it felt to Cloud, whose eyes stung from the odd sleep deprivation. Another pierced the air, a blast that could have easily shaken the house, followed by two less-threatening shots of thunder off into the distance. Cloud opened his curious, blood-shot blue eyes, lifting his head to stare out the window by the table and wardrobe. _Plunk, plunk, plunk. _The rain began to fall heavily at a suddenly fast pace, hitting the glass window. A battle between the roars of thunder raged on as one sounded off after another, some close and some far. Lightning tempted them, the sounds bursting through the heavy gust of rain after one such light would strike.

**.x.**

Cloud rested on the bed once more under the ocean of knitted blankets that were in a heap from his constant move from the bed to the floor whenever he'd hear even the slightest move outside his own comfort zone of the guest bedroom. He fixed them, flattening them out properly as a way of getting over his crushed hope of using the key under the table to open his uncomfortable neck brace.

He felt like a chicken in a coop being fed double rations of chicken feed so he would get fat enough to be shoved into an oven. The slave idea never left him, although he knew the idea of such a thing was highly un-modern. Still, he hoped for the best and stayed under the covers. All he could do was sulk in his space, unaware of what was to happen to him. Apart of him wanted someone to come into his room, which is why he spent a long time staring anxiously at the door, but no one came to his rescue—Cloud was a damsel in distress.

He growled at the same time as his stomach, an empty area in his lower body. He rubbed the skin over it gently, letting a sigh escape his dry lips. "Food," he whispered to himself. "Food!"

Cloud leaned over the side of the bed, letting his arms dangle off. He felt the chain on is bare back, and he shivered at the touch. His neck was starting to get itchy. Cloud looked around the room for something else he could use to get into the lock, but nothing came in sight in the distance he was allotted. However, from the bottom of the bed, he could touch the end of a broken piece of wood with his fingers that had split out from the bed. The partly detached piece was small and thin, the perfect size that he needed to get into the lock and turn it. He grinned mischievously, becoming excited.

Cloud pulled on the end of the broken wood, stripping it off the bed. Vandalism was hardly his thing, but these were desperate times. He needed a way out of here: a lonely old room with antique furnishings and an out-of-place fireplace that was an extremely rare thing to have in a house in tropical climates. He tore off a few strings of the wood so that it fit the space in the lock, and shoved it inside the keyhole.

He found it hard to see, since the thing was around his neck, but the wood fit in perfectly, and after a twist and jiggle or two, the metal opened around his neck and fell down to his shoulders with a _click._ Cloud chuckled to himself, beginning to think about how the one who held him captive was a dense moron.

He threw the chain and metal neck brace aside with as much force as he would a pillow, the sound of the heavy material hitting the floor with a loud 'clank' not effecting him at all. All he cared about was getting out of his locks, and now the real problem lay ahead—getting out of the room. He had no clue as to where he was, but from the view outside the curtained window, he was on a high story of a house.

The door opened with a slight creak, the slightest he would let it. The hallway outside was wide and with extremely long, numerous windows accompanying the left side of it, allowing rays of sunlight to pour in the same shape as the windows. One long, blood red carpet was laid on the path down it, one of the hall ways leading to the unknown of the distance, and the other, the one Cloud was currently facing through the crack, ending in double glass doors. That way looked so much safer to Cloud, being as the other way looked gloomy and he couldn't even see the end of it.

With hesitance and another look both ways like he was crossing a street, he stepped out of his room, forgetting and not caring that he was barely clothed and shoe-less. The house wasn't cold despite the thunderstorm going on outside, so he was content with what he was wearing for now. Golden light from the outside was actually a comfort as he walked down the hallway, strolling past column after column, holding onto himself as the sunlight slowly faded into gray darkness, and the golden light became sparks of lightning.

With ease he opened one of the glass doors, the other side looking generally sound and deserted. Out of pure tension, he could hear faint footsteps coming his way, and voices echoing off walls. He shivered, rubbing his arms. The eeriness of the hall was getting to him. If the manor was really wiped of people, there's no telling what other things could be roaming around…

"It's just the thunder," he told himself. "Just the thunder."

BOOM! A crack of the storm filled the air, and following obediently behind it, a flash of lighting. Cloud stopped afterwards, as another wave of mysterious voices came his way, faded and distorted like if the sounds were traveling under water as they ran through the walls. It sounded like ghostly wails, coming to get him. After a pause, Cloud continued on, only to be hit once against with the moans from within the walls. He turned a corner.

The blonde ended up in another long, drawn-out hall lined wall-to-wall with armored knights. The room was lit an orange like the sunset with the candles that were held high in place above the heads of the knights, a pleasant dimness. It reminded him of a hotel, with an oddly carpeted floor. He groaned to himself, "Yes, of _course _I'd find the room with all the spooky knights."

Another crack of thunder and a traveling cry. From where Cloud was now, the sound seemed to becoming from behind him. He halted once again to wait for the next scream that would come his way. When it came, he turned around, the sound indeed coming from the hall he had just come from. Perhaps another floor or other side of the manor? Well, at least it wasn't in front of poor Cloud, something that he didn't have to run into.

Cloud peered into the helmets of the armored superiors that stood tall on their personal platforms and swords beside them like precious pets. He couldn't help but fear that it would be like in the movies: a creepy bad guy hiding inside the shield. He tore his eyes away from them, enforcing the "If I can't see them, they can't see me" rule for youngsters. He rushed to the end of the hall, where a solid wood door and winding staircase awaited him. The door was under the staircase, and that was his way out, but as he walked towards it, he could hear the faint sound of conversing voices from the other side (not the ones that were taunting him before), and he bolted up the flight of stairs.

He managed to hide himself behind the wall on the next floor at the exact moment the door underneath him swung open. Panting and gasping, the blonde poked his head out a bit to see, his hands holding onto the corner connecting the walls. Stepping out from the door was a lanky, sandy-haired male. He wore a pair of light trousers, a beige, and a white linen shirt featuring a tall standing collar. His azure eyes glanced up the staircase. Next to him, an equally blonde, slightly taller woman. She donned a slim ebony garment with a white petticoat just barely slipping out from under it as she walked. The woman seemed as so she was heading to a funeral, the bodice so long and full that a tail of the material dragged behind her.

"–in the library at the present moment," she said to the boy, both breaking off at the base of the stairway. "In a short while, he shall be done. I advise you enter upon his _departure._"

The boy nodded, his hand resting upon the rail. "As such, I shall do. Thank you, Larxene."

Larxene bowed her head to some degree and took her leave, disuniting them as she followed the manor hall through the knights. Roxas, on the other hand, began to climb up the staircase. Cloud, frightened and incapable of breathing, backed away from the wall he was up against and turned around, getting a good look at the way of his escape.

He tilted his head to the right.

This was the exact same hallway as the one outside his guest room. At least, it looked exactly the same. The only difference was the rug, this time a darker red, almost purple. A door stood at the end. The large, arched windows were on the same side and the tall columns on the other. He concealed himself from sight behind one of them, kneeling behind it. The spiky-haired male appeared shortly after, quietly strolling down the hall unhurriedly. He kept his hands in his pants and his eyes plastered on the windows, staring out at the rain taping against them. Cloud maneuvered himself around the column as Roxas passed so that he wasn't seen; Roxas hadn't seem to have heard.

Cloud kept up with Roxas all down the hall, going column-to-column a safe distance behind the boy's back. He had taken his gaze away from the storm and was now staring at the floor. Soon the columns were running out, and Roxas turned right at the 'T' intersection with the other hallway. Cloud climbed out of the shadows and stood erectly beside the last white column, watching Roxas's back as he proceeded on in a different styled hallway, this one's colors gold and maroon with carpet for the floor and walls. This one had windows in the same style.

He chose to go backwards, taking his eyes off Roxas's faraway spinal column with a sigh. Footing by the columns, he gaped out the view port blurred with rain fragments, some drops racing down the glass. Outside this window, several stories below, a field of green grass–a garden. Through the haze he could make out a tree in a corner, and a waterfall in another. It was odd, since the flower garden was enclosed on _all_ sides with the house; he could see three other barriers with hallways and windows from his own manor hall. He had remembered on the map, how the paper showed that on all four floors there was a garden. No wonder. The area was in an unsuited place within the walls of the mansion.

_I look higher than four floors, _Cloud thought to himself. _And I'm not on the top level. _

Which brought him to his next thought: where the hell were his possessions? They had obviously been taken, but by whom? And where did he or she put them? And why the hell wasn't that map right?!

He could see Roxas's shape passing windows on the barrier on his left.

Cloud's hand gripped the sparkling railing and he took a few steps down the staircase, until the door below him opened. He whipped around and sped back up again two at a time with caution, the sound of heavy footsteps breaking the deafening silence. The person was in a hurry, or seemed like it, and the person was already on the stairway. Cloud's hands turned into fists, power walking down the hall, passing the windows for the third time. His pressured mind didn't relay the idea of hiding behind the columns again, so he scurried away in clear sight.

Cloud looked over his shoulder; the shadow of the person was at the top of the stairs. He gulped and moved as rapidly as he could without making _too_ much of a racket, which looked something between a waddle and a clumsy jog, but that wasn't the main priority at the moment. Freedom was calling out to him from the end of the 'T'-shaped hallway, but as he reached this so called 'Freedom,' it all fell apart.

Roxas was now coming back down the hall towards Cloud; he had turned around. The other person behind Cloud was already off the stairs, with his chestnut-haired head down and staring at the carpeted flooring, as was Roxas.

Cloud looked at Roxas, who was heading his way. He then looked at Sora, who was also traveling in his direction. Then Roxas, who still had his head down. Then Sora, doing the same thing. Then Roxas again.

"...Shit!" He muttered to himself. He glared back over his shoulder at the vacant hallway in which he could flee, the other end of the 'T'.

It was never-ending, like the one by his room. How convenient.

Cloud felt like a juicy piece of meat, ready to be thrown to the crocodiles. Ouch. Sora was much closer than Roxas was, who was a longer distance away. They both seemed to be walking sluggishly, like the killers in horror movies. If both, or even one, looked up and saw him, what would they do...? Cloud took the only solution he could come up with; he twisted the doorknob of the door beside him and headed inside.

He closed the door as quietly as he could and got on his knees, placing his palms against the door. He peered out from the keyhole. Sora had stopped. The brunette smiled malevolently underneath his spikes, like he had just lost his target. He lifted his head somewhat and turned, carrying on down the same hallway in which he had just came towards the staircase once again. Cloud found this bizarre, raising a curious brow, but nevertheless fortunate for him in the situation. Now all he had to do was wait for Roxas...

Cloud moved his head away from the door to analyze his environment. He was in a low cavern-type area, the ceiling arched, with white concrete and stone. This cavern was an entrance to a colossal brass staircase, the base of which he could see from where he was by the keyhole. He looked through it once again at, coincidentally, the moment Roxas passed, barely two feet away from the door. Cloud's heart ceased to beat.

Roxas had come to a halt right in front of the doorway. Cloud didn't dare to breathe. Moments, ones that felt like eternity, passed, and he continued to stare at the side of Roxas' trousers. Cloud's mind was filled with pleas, most for Roxas _not_ to open the door he was behind. The others were in hope that Roxas would go away... _quickly._

And, thankfully, Roxas did, turning on his heel and passing down the path laid out in front of the opening that Cloud was staring into with the columns and windows. He sighed loudly with relief and exhaustion, taking his hands off of the door.

Roxas stopped moving yet again, glancing behind him. Cloud's lungs refused to start working. He sat there, broad-eyed. Had Roxas heard him? He pushed himself away from the door as Roxas started to turn around, picking himself up. Slowly, facing the door, Cloud retreated from the entry, fearing Roxas might barge in at any second. He braved turning his head to see fully what was in the next room behind his back: the staircase of the lighthouse, a black brass, winding stairway that went on and on until the sky, or so it seemed. From the inside, the height of it looked so much higher. He dashed up the steps as fast as he could go without making any audible noises, which wasn't very easy. Every time he put a foot on one, the sound of his foot hitting the metal was a _thump _that echoed throughout the entire establishment.

The door finally opened, the sound resounding throughout the place, with Roxas unconcealed behind it. By that time, Cloud was already high up enough on the first twirl of the staircase that he was able to hide behind the brass, pausing his hurry upwards momentarily.

Roxas stood at the foot of the stairs, questioning closely the contents of the lighthouse. His gaze was deadly, according to Cloud, and it scanned everything it could see. The older blonde lifted his foot slowly and placed it on the next step. The metal was cruel.

Roxas's eye twitched. Cloud took another step, keeping himself pushed up against the wall in order not to be seen. The metal, again, made a tiny sound. Cloud dared not to move any further.

A few minutes of silence.

Roxas rocketed up the stairs, at full speed. His eyes narrowed, catching a glimpse of Cloud. The older male had rushed upwards as soon as Roxas did, so he was at some distance away. Roxas pushed on, climbing each step with determination. Cloud, on the other hand, leaped up two-at-a-time, holding onto the rail to pull him up. Another twirl and twist of the staircase, and then another. Roxas refused to slow down, not affected physically at all; Cloud, however, was wiped clean of fuel. His lungs heaved and he coughed, swallowing saliva to keep his throat from going completely dry. His pharynx felt like it was about to explode, on fire and battered, but every time he noticed Roxas getting closer, he pushed himself upward and onward.

It wasn't until he reached the very top that he slowed down, fumbling with the doorknob and almost falling when he finally got it open. He walked across the Main Gallery balcony that surrounded the tower, almost fainting from the dryness of his throat and the cement in his lungs. He made his way around the round balcony, with Roxas erupting from the door behind him, until he found the small staircase that led up to the Watch Room.

Cloud, who had noticed Roxas was right behind him, turned himself around, walking backwards. He stepped up the stairs to the Service Room while staring down at Roxas. The younger blonde had slowed down quickly, knowing that Cloud was within his claws, but he seemed to be staring through Cloud, his eyes unfocusted and unnerved. He was now five feet away, following Cloud around the windowpane. Inside the glass was the gigantic lens in which the light was made. Cloud pushed himself up against the edge of the black rail, holding onto it with dear life while he stared into the jaws of Death. The dome above them, Roxas pursued Cloud, now less than a foot away–

Roxas suddenly turned away, taking a spot next to Cloud, who was frozen.

His face was plastered with fearfulness, and he was _motionless._

Roxas wrapped his fingers around the railing, gazing out at the landscape. The island... the ocean...the horizon, covered with a bleak gray hue. A complete and full mood-swing on his part.

"If I leaped," the young blonde began, his blue eyes glistening, "...do you think they'd notice?" He leaned over. Cloud's hand rushed forward on instinct as a gesture of stopping him. He was beaming, his hair blowing in the harsh winds from the lingering storm. "That's acceptable. Larxene has told me: if I study all the books at home within the library, I'll be able to depart from this place..."

He stepped away from the rail, giving the sight one last grin, and headed back down the stairs to the Main Gallery. "No," he said to himself, "I won't jump today."

**.x.**

Finding his room again wasn't difficult, considering Cloud always had a knack of figuring things out without difficulty. All he had to do was see what halls looked familiar, and Cloud hadn't really made a complicated path after leaving his room. He walked down the hall way with the large windows by his room with Roxas's blessing–not having to hide from him in the hallways.

He opened the door. He had forgotten completely about his chains until that very moment–when he saw _him. _Now that Cloud was closer, he was able to see the face clearer. He was about to yell "Hey! You're the one who shot me!" if it wasn't for the fact that the delicate male was dressing on the other side of the room in front of the open bureau.

Sora was defiantly scrawny, not an ounce of muscle on his body, but he wasn't so skinny that his bones were poking out right and left. His hair was a medium brown and pointed. Sora looked like a child, his arms and legs tender and smooth. He had put on a light cotton shirt, one that was unlaced at the neck. He looked deliciously slim and slender, his skin beautiful and creamy like buttermilk–

Oh_ god_, what the hell was Cloud thinking? He made a mental note to kick himself later.

Inside the dresser were linen and cottons shirts on brass hangars and below them, black, gray, and tan trousers. On the bottom of the bureau was a large chest, now opened and showing off golden and silver swords. Sora finished lacing up his shoes and snatched up two of the thin swords, holding one in each hand.

_So this is _his_ room?_ Cloud wondered to himself. He was _not _going to share a room with him. There were thousands of other available guest rooms, he was sure. Cloud moved aside so that Sora could leave the room. Sora didn't even send him a glance. The blonde followed him out into the hall, the brunette having gone the never-ending way. Cloud, not having anything better to do, traveled behind Sora down the hall.

Deep down in the hallway, Cloud stopped to examine a door cracked open, peering inside. It was the library. He moved his head away from the door, looking for Sora. The brunette was gone, having turned a corner somewhere or other. Cloud grinned slightly and looked back through the crack.

The library seemed empty, so he strode within. The ceiling was high and elevated, the room's theme black and white. The floors were in black and white tile, while the ceiling was a mixture of the two; the bookshelves were as well. Shelves were lined very close to one another, many of them taking space on the wall. To the side of the library, a white staircase that led to the second floor, which was lined with even _more _books.

"_Larxene has told me: if I study all the books at home within the library, I'll be able to depart from this place..."_

Cloud chuckled softly. "Jesus, kid, it'll take ten years to read all those books... but I wonder why he has to wait before then...?"

The blonde shrugged, took one last looked around, and walked out.

**.x. **

**Author's Note: **OI, that took forever. I wrote the second half at five in the morning. Heehee. I hope it's not _too _bad. I think the 'suspensefulness' that's _supposed _to be there isn't, but Riku-stalker seems to think different, and I respect her opinion, and I'm sure she's right! Anyways...

**Special Thanks To: **Riku-stalker, for being such a lovely beta!

**Stay tuned for Chapter Four: The Doll Room, the Music Room, and the Master Suite! **


End file.
